


On Command

by FreshBrains



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Community: femslash_kink, Desperation, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/F, Humiliation, POV Bonnie, Tribadism, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: Bonnie wants to give Annalise something easy, something she can control. She wants to show Annalise how good she can be when everyone else turns out to be disappointing. She wants to show Annalise that she’shere, one thousand percent, ready to deliver.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2016 prompt: [Annalise/Bonnie, desperation](https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/19252.html?thread=2706996#cmt2706996).

“I can’t concentrate with you squirming like a fish on a hook over there,” Annalise says, eyes still trained on the papers in front of her.

Bonnie feels herself flush, and before she can stop herself, scoots forward a little further in her chair. When she doesn’t respond right away, Annalise glances up, one brow arched.

“Well? Do you have something to say?”

Bonnie purses her lips and shakes her head. “I’m just doing what you told me to do.” She crosses her ankles, and in doing so, squeezes her thighs tighter together.

Annalise leans back in her chair. “Refresh my memory.”

“You told me,” Bonnie starts with a sigh, “to, and I quote, sit my ass down until I find a viable witness for the Davis case.” She motions towards the papers spread out on her desk, her crumpled legal pad, her overheated laptop. Next to her mouse is her water bottle, finished except for the last sip or two. “And I haven’t found a viable witness yet.”

Annalise understands right away, and _damn_ her, she lets a smile curl to her lips. A _smug_ smile. “And here I am always complaining that no one ever listens to me.” She rolls back her chair a few inches and laces her fingers together over her stomach. “How long?”

Bonnie licks her lips. “At least an three hours. Maybe a little more.”

“It didn’t slow you down on that water, either,” Annalise says, almost like she’s impressed. “All this hard work and nothing to show for it, though.”

“Not exactly,” Bonnie says. “The drugstore owner was lying. The security tapes show that he was on a smoke break when he supposedly heard Mr. Davis holding his associate at gunpoint.” She tosses down her note pad. “He gave a pretty detailed account for someone who wasn’t even in the store.”

Annalise nods. It isn’t a breakthrough by any means—the owner was a fool looking for his fifteen minutes—but it was _something_. Something concrete, something her students failed to see. Bonnie was made for that kind of work—slow, patient work. Work that required a focused eye. “Good,” Annalise says curtly. “But still not a witness.”

“Still not a witness,” Bonnie agrees, a shudder rolling through her midsection. She wriggles again in her chair, unable to find a position that doesn’t press _something_ uncomfortably against her bladder. These games aren’t new for them, but they tend to wax and wane. Some cases loom larger than their strange relationship and their intimacy takes the back burner; sometimes all they need is a cuddle and a goodnight kiss to keep them sated. But right now, tensions among the students are high and the DA’s office is still breathing down Annalise’s neck.

Bonnie wants to give Annalise something easy, something she can control. She wants to show Annalise how good she can be when everyone else turns out to be disappointing. She wants to show Annalise that she’s _here_ , one thousand percent, ready to deliver.

“How about a compromise?” Annalise leans forward on her desk, fingers steepled in front of her. “You find me your best possible witness—a _possible_ one, doesn’t have to be a sure bet—and I let you take off those panty hose you’re wearing.” She bites back a smile. “They can’t be comfortable in your…position.”

“Sounds fair,” Bonnie says, trying to keep her voice even. The waistband _is_ feeling a little tight.

Ten minutes pass, then twenty. The clock in the hallway seems to taunt Bonnie as she rocks in her chair, the movement soothing the small cramps. Despite the slight pain creeping through her pelvis, Bonnie works diligently, going back to one of the many hastily-scrawled witness statements taken at the crime scene. There’s one that keeps nagging her, one that stands out too much—Mr. Jacobs, who occupies the park bench on the corner of 9th and Washington on most days. In his statement, he told the police up front he frequented the drugstore twice a day—once in the morning for coffee and a paper and once during lunch for a sandwich. He was the only person on the scene during both peak hours, he obviously knew the place well, and he also had a front-row view to any action that could’ve taken place.

“You found something,” Annalise says—a fact, not a question. “You made that little noise. If it wasn’t so cute, it would almost be pathetic.”

It stings, it’s _supposed_ to sting, but it also makes heat curl in Bonnie’s stomach. “Mr. Jacobs. The regular.”

“He didn’t have much to say,” Annalise says. “But he might open up if we pay him some more attention.” Bonnie knows what she means—send Laurel with her bleeding heart (or, if that doesn’t work, Connor with his heavy-lidded smile) and see what they can get this guy to remember. “At least we have something to go on tomorrow.” It doesn’t merit a _good work_ , but Bonnie doesn’t need one.

She sits patiently, a little slumped over, until Annalise gives her a curt nod. Then she stands, movements slow, and starts to reach up her skirt to wriggle off her too-tight hose.

Annalise makes a noise of dissent. “I think I’ve changed my mind. Take the skirt off first. Then the hose.” She studies Bonnie like she’s an artist’s model in a studio. “Then the panties. All of it.”

The zipper on her skirt snags a little, but Bonnie gets everything off quickly, much to Annalise’s approval, and folds it all neatly on her desk. It should be humiliating, her pose—nude from the waist down, the hem of her soft blouse grazing the swell of her ass. She feels childlike. But there’s an odd comfort in it. It’s just her and Annalise, the front door locked, the house silent save for their mingled heavy breathing.

“I like you like this,” Annalise says, voice husky. The tone alone makes Bonnie’s clit throb. “Trying to stay still for me. You’re always so _good_. Why can’t they all be like you?” She stands and circles around to the front of her desk, slowly, like she’s got all the time in the world. “Bend over.”

Bonnie does as she’s told, but she doesn’t realize how uncomfortable it is until her palms are pressed against the wood of the desk and her weight is shifted forward. It feels like her bladder is being pushed to the front, pressed into a space too tight, but she holds the pose.

Seeing her wince, Annalise takes pity. “This won’t be for long,” she says gently, brushing Bonnie’s hair back from her face. “You know how I like to see you.” Her hand drifts down Bonnie’s back, sliding evenly from smooth silk to the firm skin of Bonnie’s ass. She squeezes, hard and proprietary, and if Bonnie wasn’t so on edge, she’d give her a smack, too. Instead, she slips her hand down between Bonnie’s legs, cupping her sex, and with the other hand, she reaches forward and presses against Bonnie’s pelvis.

Bonnie yelps like a wounded animal and tries to squirm away from the touch, but Annalise just shushes her and holds her fast. “I’m not pressing,” she murmurs, and her voice alone always has a way of soothing Bonnie. “Just feeling. I can feel it…you must be in pain by now.”

_In pain for me,_ Bonnie hears underneath. _You’re doing this for me._ Her clit throbs, and part of Bonnie wants Annalise’s hand to drift down and touch her, but she can’t tell if the clench in her stomach is aroused anticipation or the need for release.

“Take this off,” Annalise purrs, bunching the fabric of Bonnie’s blouse in her hand, knuckles pressing ever so gently against Bonnie’s bladder, “and meet me in the bathroom.”

Bonnie shudders and lifts the shirt over her head. This time, she doesn’t bother to fold it before following Annalise upstairs.

She likes Annalise’s bathroom—it’s small and cool and dim, perfect for secrets and their private games. Annalise undresses in the bedroom first, down to her magenta silk panties and black bra. “You know we can always stop,” she says as she takes off her earrings, looking at where Bonnie is squirming impatiently by the bathroom door. “Say the word and I’ll give you a minute and then we can go to bed.”

“I don’t want that,” Bonnie says firmly, and Annalise smiles.

“I know.” She walks into the bathroom, hips swaying for Bonnie, body delectable in her expensive lingerie. She sits on the closed toilet seat and pats her lap. “Now come here.”

Bonnie straddles her lap, winching a little at the straining movements. She’s starting to cramp, and if she moves much more, she won’t be able to hold it. The thought sends a hot, ashamed thrill down her spine. “I might—what if I—“

“What if I tell you I want you to?” Annalise spreads her legs, insinuating one thigh between Bonnie’s so Bonnie has something firm to ride her cunt against. She’s slick already, leaving a glistening streak against Annalise’s skin. There’s a dark patch on Annalise’s panties; she’s wet, too, probably has been ever since she realized Bonnie was withholding a bathroom break from herself. “What if I told you to let go?”

Bonnie gasps, stomach clenching sweetly, lower half going warm in the way that tells her an orgasm is close, pending, creeping up on the edges. Her orgasms are slow and honey-warm, not hard and shattering like Annalise’s. They always feel _earned_. “I don’t want to make a mess,” she whispers, but she realizes with horror that Annalise’s leg is already damp. She hides her face in Annalise’s neck, humiliated.

“I’m not asking you, Bon,” Annalise says, firm and low, breath hot on the soft skin beneath Bonnie’s ear, “I’m _telling_ you. Let go.” Her hands grip Bonnie’s hips and her left thumb comes in to press against Bonnie’s bladder, _hard_.

Bonnie whines, the sound keening and desperate as it echoes off the bathroom walls, and all at once her body relaxes and tightens, her muscles slacken and seize, her cunt swells and contracts. She’s a mess of scorching paradoxes as she grinds down on Annalise’s thigh, riding her clit to orgasm, and she hears it before she feels it—the drip against the bathroom tile, the hissing stream of it, forceful against Annalise’s skin.

“Oh my god…oh, _god_ ,” she groans, burning face buried in Annalise’s shoulder, but she lets go, is _still_ letting go. She comes once more, shaking with it, groaning incoherently, and as she comes, more warmth floods out of her, her pelvis and hips relaxing like melted butter. It’s one of the sweetest sensations she’s ever experienced, one of the most _freeing._ She arches so hard into Annalise that her toes lift off the ground, her weight supporting on Annalise’s leg, cunt hot and soaking and swollen as she pushes for another orgasm. “Disgusting,” she says softly, almost spitting it, hating herself even as she’s wracked with pleasure, even as her fingers scrabble for purchase on Annalise’s shoulders.

“ _No_ ,” Annalise says firmly. She tips Bonnie’s face up with her index finger on Bonnie’s chin, wanting eye contact. Bonnie feels like a child being comforted after a spanking, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. “You’re not disgusting. You’re perfect. You did exactly as you were told.” She tugs Bonnie in closer, hands at the small of her back, rocking their bodies together. The scent of Bonnie’s release is faint but sharp. “We’ll take a shower and then clean up.” She smiles, brushing Bonnie’s sweaty hair behind her ear. “A hot shower and a few paper towels. Some Lysol. Not a bad price to pay for three orgasms, huh?” She cups Bonnie’s face and kisses her, soft and sweet, just what Bonnie is aching for.

Bonnie can’t help but smile, even if she’s still wet and embarrassed. “You didn’t come, though.”

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Annalise says, halfway between a promise and a warning, and even if Bonnie didn’t find her ideal witness, she’s counts the night as a victory.


End file.
